The Aimbot Infection
by BoshBosh
Summary: How do you stop the perfect virus?
1. Epilogue

Marcus began laughing excitedly. He quickly dropped his bag on the table and showed the rest of his gang the cyberbrain he collected. "We finally got a Culter brain!" he shouted. "With this, we can finally pay off the Roaches! We'll be free!" The rest of the gang quickly thrust their rifles into the air and yelled in unison. Marcus wasted no time and scanned the brain immediately. "Woah-ho-ho," he cried out, "This one's a doozie! There must be at least 20 terabytes worth of clearance codes, and they're all ours."

Marcus' second-in-command, Trip, was visibly concerned. "Marcus, we shouldn't waste time," he warned. "The Roaches don't want an empty cyberbrain."

"Shut up," Marcus snapped back. "We'll just tell them it's clean-pristine." Trip felt no need to push his luck any further and let the boss do as he wished. Beeps and blips continued to fill the air as Marcus busily searched the cyberbrain for anything of special value. Half an hour passed and he maintained full speed. His gang had lost interest and began going back to drinking and then shooting the empty bottles that piled up. Amidst all the rowdiness that built up, Marcus was trying to get everyone's attention but couldn't be heard over all the Rotten Mound shots and loud music being played. To get above the noise, he grabbed a steel drum, armed a grenade and threw it in. The explosion concentrated into a small cylinder not only blew a hole in the wall but was also loud enough to deafen him temporarily. He clasped his hands over the side of his head in an effort to steady his shaken world. Once hearing came back, he looked up to find he had his gang's attention again. "I found upgrade schematics for those of you with implants. It says here they-", he stopped talking mid-sentence. The gang was confused.

Trip approached him. "Hey Marky boy, did you find a word with more than ten letters in it or what?" he asked. Marcus didn't move a muscle. It was as if he'd been frozen in place. "Come on sleepyhead, your bed is over there with all the over bags of trash we need to burn." Marcus' head turned to face him in an instant. Trip jumped back in shock. "Oi, what's your deal, dickhead?" Marcus reached towards his KA strapped to his back. Trip reacted quickly and pulled out his BK13 but he wasn't quick enough. Marcus' had gotten hold of his KA and within the timespan of one second, snapped the gun towards Trip's head and pulled the trigger. The bullet pierced his skull without any sign of hindrance. The rest of the gang froze in fear. There's trouble afoot when a looter leader executes his second-in-command without as much as a second thought. Marcus' eyes locked onto his next target and the process repeated. The gun snapped to the position of his next victims head and shot before the previously fired bullet even reached its destination.

The federal police finally arrived after receiving a distress call sent out by nearby civilians. The cops kicked down the front door to the warehouse but only found twenty-one dead bodies, a massive hole in the wall and shattered windows.


	2. The Reports

Ogilvy sat at the vantage point while preparing his TKM. He inserted the magazine, pulled back the bolt and attached the scope, each stage bringing sweet sounds of metal pieces locking into place. He referred back to his cyberbrain through his visor display to remind him of the description of his target. Relaxing the base of the sniper rifle on the edge of the hotel he was stationed at, he looked down the scope. The target was out in the open, rummaging through an ATM he shot up. Ogilvy held his breath to take the shot, but was interrupted by an incoming transmission. He lifted his left hand to his helmet and tapped twice. "Go ahead," he whispered.

"Abort mission," said Aahmiah. "You're presence has been requested back at the New Eden station." Ogilvy grunted in anger, his time having been wasted. He tapped on his helmet once and fired the rifle. The .50 AD round flew in a straight line and ignited the remains of the ATM, causing glass to go everywhere. The target was startled and began firing into the air, catching the attention of the nearby Federation patrol. What ensued was a short firefight, and Ogilvy watched the whole thing before attaching his rifle to his back and setting off downstairs. He got into his car and drove off to the New Eden Federal headquarters.

Ogilvy was greeted by the guards at the front doors. Upon entering, he headed for the soda vending machine before being intercepted by Pilkins. Pilkins was holding onto a collection of holonotes. "Ogilvy, look these over and head to the commander's office. You've got an assignment," ordered Pilkins in his less-than-threatening voice.

"Right away," replied Ogilvy. He knew better than to keep the commander waiting. As the elevator made it's ascension up the many floors of the building, he decided he might actually look at the holonotes. They were all regarding reports of strange cases involving looter infighting. Entire gangs have wiped themselves out with the remaining survivor of each gang having showing no sign of outside stimulus before their body shuts down entirely. As far as Ogilvy was concerned, they could all die that way; looters are looters. Ogilvy reached the top floor and read the holographic sign on the wall to his right. It read "Commander Ilupen". He knocked on the door at the end of the small landing once before opening it and walking inside. Commander Ilupen stood still, staring out his one-way window that covered %60 of the wall.

"Take a seat," said Ilupen. "Would you like to take a shot?"

"Derezin isn't my type of drink, sir," replied Ogilvy. He pulled out the chair in front of the desk and sat down, arms on his lap.

"Good. Because if you became an alcoholic, I'd have to send you to get harvested and executed." Ilupen turned to face Ogilvy with both his hands behind his back. His helmet retracted back into his chest plate. "If you read the holonotes, you'd know that looters are dying left, right and centre."

"A bunch of looters getting pissy over arguments isn't a good enough reason to call off a hit," Ogilvy stated. "There's more to it."

"Exactly." Ilupen turned around again to face the thriving city of New Eden. "I wouldn't care about dead looters even if they were my family, but when the same thing happens to SPEC-4 squads that I've sent to investigate, I get worried." Once more, he turns to face Ogilvy before sitting down at his desk, fingers entwined and elbows on the desk. "We assumed a metastreumonic force was behind this but our metastreum detectors couldn't find a signal large enough to have any effect on anything at all. This could only leave two possible perpetrators; E.Y.E agents taking action against us or a cyber-entity."

"So what do you want me to do?" asked Ogilvy.

"You'll find out what the hell is going on with my men and put an end to it," declared Ilupen. "So far the suicides have only been happening here in New Eden, so that narrows your search."

"I'll do what I can."

"Glad to hear it, Ogilvy," said Ilupen. Ogilvy rose from his chair and headed to the door. "Oh, before you leave, Ogilvy; remove your helmet. You're on Federal grounds. The only protection your head needs is protection from Aahmiah's lectures." Ogilvy tapped his neck on the left side and then the right. His left and right mouthguards slid to the back of his head, his visor pulled back over his scalp and the rest of the helmet slid down into the neck of the chest piece.

"Thanks for the tip." Ogilvy looked away and continued towards the elevator. He called the elevator and left the building. He approached his car and before he could enter, a hurried Pilkins ran towards him.

"Ogilvy," he called, "Aahmiah wanted to see you before you left. You should go see him now." Ogilvy showed Pilkins no acknowledgement as he returned to the front doors. The doors slid open and Aahmiah was already standing there. He gestured for Ogilvy to follow and he walked up to his office in the dispatch department. Ogilvy was hoping he had escaped the vacant concrete walls that make up the interiors of most Federal buildings for the night, but unfortunately, duty calls. Upon entering the room, Ogilvy was calmed by the pleasant smell of burning incense. Aahmiah was a profound Buddhist, a Dark Ages religion. On his desk, next to his computer sat a Chinese cat figurine complete with a waving arm and a large smile. Why preserve an extinct religion was beyond most of the Federal agents that resided in this particular station, but it was never brought up in conversation often. Even though Aahmiah believes in peace, he has no morals against shooting anyone on sight with his beloved 444K revolver. He carried it with him on all operations, he carried it around the home, and he carried it to funerals. He was as loyal to it as it was to him; as long as he gave it targets to fire at, it would make each hit count. It was a very beautiful relationship.

Ogilvy waited as Aahmiah rummaged through one of his shelves. He pulled out sheets, inactive holonotes and memory storages and put them all back. Eventually, he gave up and turned to his steel cabinet, the light of the sun protruding the polluted green fog of New Eden and onto the glistening metal. The gauntlet around his hand retracted itself as he placed it on a screen. The cabinet doors slid open and revealed not a collection of guns as many would expect, but a large collection of 444K rounds, each gently placed into speed-loaders and clustered in little steel bandoliers. He picked out six of them and inserted them into the compartments of his Federal SpecFor armour. "Are you preparing for a duel?" asked Ogilvy.

"No, my dear Ogilvy," Aahmiah replied in a soothing tone, "I am accompanying you on this investigation. If Commander Ilupen were kind enough to have told you, you would've known and not have left as quickly as you could."

"You can't blame a man for wanting to leave a building like this," said Ogilvy.

"Of course not. Cement walls could discomfort a psi-monk." It was common knowledge that monks trained in the arts of psi-powers were stress-tested in terrible conditions. Ogilvy gave a light chuckle and left the room, Aahmiah in tow. As they both reached the lobby, Pilkins got up with his hand out as though he was about to start a conversation. Ogilvy didn't gave him any acknowledgment, but Aahmiah pulled out his revolver and gave him a light slap across the face without looking at him as they both continued out the front door. Ogilvy got into the driver's seat of his car and Aahmiah took his place of honour in the passenger seat.

Ogilvy looked at Aahmiah. "Where should we look first?"

"We'll gather some Looters' sides of the stories at the nearby piss-foundry," said Aahmiah in a lightly humorous tone.

"Sounds like fun," replied Ogilvy in an entertained voice. Aahmiah nodded with a smile and as they both turned to face the front, their helmets reconstructed around their faces and they drove off.

_-{Ogilvy Minorum: Monologue File #00029}_

_TIMESTAMP: 19/12/0013_

_I was an agent of E.Y.E before I became a fed. I received all the training and all the technology you could fit in a body that all initiates got. I turned on them when the internal wars became a distraction from our common goal: destroy the metastreum. Soldier that turn their arses on their own organizations are lucky to see the next day, but I was even luckier. I snuck out and deleted all evidence that I was there. Somebody had to take the fall for erasing me, so I pinned it on a Jian. I know it will fuel the war even further, but I don't care anymore. I am my own man; a man that the Federation pays thousands of brouzofs per hour of service._

_{End Holonote}-_


	3. The First Step

Ogilvy pulled up beside the bar. The air instantly filled with the sound of loud music, laughing men and glass occasionally shattering. The sign above the door read "Den of Decay" in bright green words stylised with slimy drips. He turned to Aahmiah, whose current expression was hidden behind the shiny red metal that protected his face. Aahmiah was looking out his passenger window, wondering why anyone would feel compelled to purchase alcohol from a place that reeks of vomit and garbage. Ogilvy tapped Aahmiah on the shoulder and they both faced each other. "Ready?" asked Ogilvy.

"Better now than later when the sun has set," replied Aahmiah in a hesitant tone.

"Right on," chanted Ogilvy with false enthusiasm. He removed his combat machete from his left leg holster and inserted it into his chest compartment for quick access. Aahmiah pulled out his revolver and checked the barrel for bullets. Satisfied, he spun the barrel and knocked the latch, locking the barrel in place before placing it back into his right leg holster. They both exited the car in synchronisation and marched into the bar. They stopped in front of the door and took a look at all the current occupants of the bar. Looters. Every single one of them. Tables and chairs rattled with each guitar chord that stormed out of the speakers that sat at each corner of the ceiling. The duo couldn't hear their own thoughts over the noise that almost deafened them.

Ogilvy approached the bartender while Aahmiah stood and watched from the doors. He leaned onto the bench and put two fingers together into the air, signalling for service. The bartender put down the mug he was polishing and walked over slowly. "What could I get a fine lookin' Fed like you?"

"Oh, nothing just yet," said Ogilvy. "Just wanted to say you'd think a band was playing live here."

"A shithole like this couldn't supply enough room for any actual band to play y'know?" the bartender stated. "You gonna order a drink or make conversation? 'Cause this ain't a shitty chatroom."

"I'm looking for something that will help me unwind," said Ogilvy as he stretched his arms behind his head. "I was just fired and I'm too pissed to give a shit what I put in my system."

"I've got what ya want," nodded the bartender. "Come 'round back, don't want none of these fucks knowing you got this stuff on you." He laughed heartily. Ogilvy got up from the bench and followed him into the back. As they reached the end of the alley, the bartender reached around into his denim vest and pulled out a small glass vial of a black liquid. He looked up to Ogilvy, and then he worked out that Ogilvy was not fired, and was not after drugs.

"Gangs of looters are committing suicide and I want to know why," demanded Ogilvy.

"You didn't have to lie to me, could've just asked," said the bartender, cooperatively. "It's worrying for me because dead looters don't pay shit when they dead. The name's Archie. I can keep an ear out for you lot if you promise to leave me and my drug selling alone."

"We don't need extra ears, Archie," exclaimed Ogilvy in a threatening tone. "We've got ears everywhere you couldn't imagine ears would fit. What I want is what you know and I want it now before me and my partner destroys more than a few windows."

"Woah now, this bar is all I have. I'm telling you, I know nothing!" Archie was visibly scared. "But if you want to know the goings-ons within the streets, go find Mernov. He's knows everything about the now and before so he'll have your answer. Now please, leave me and my bar alone alright?"

"Right." Ogilvy walked back inside and nodded towards Aahmiah. Ogilvy grabbed a drink from one of the tables, retracted his mouthguard and drank. The looter it belonged to wasn't happy about having his drink stolen.

"You gon' pay for a new one you ignorant shit!" he yelled. Ogilvy ignored him and kept walking towards the exit. As he walked out, Aahmiah pulled out his revolver and shot one of the speakers before following Ogilvy. The looter pursuing Ogilvy froze in shock. The looters that remained in the bar started to get rowdier after hearing the gunshot, laughs turning into yelling. Ogilvy looked at Aahmiah.

"Was that really necessary?" Ogilvy asked.

"Yes," said Aahmiah almost instantly. He got into the car while Ogilvy stared back at the bar. He took a moment to think about how such a rusty pile of junk could mean so much to a man. Aahmiah knocked on the car window from the inside, pulling Ogilvy out of his thought.

The duo arrived back at the New Eden Federal station. Aahmiah returned to his office and Ogilvy sought out Pilkins. Pilkins was not at his office. He waited at Pilkins' office until he returned from wherever he could be. When Pilkins arrived at his own office, he was startled to see Ogilvy had already made his way in and was staring out the window. "If you didn't have your helmet off," said Pilkins, "I'd have pinned you as Ilupen, what with your staring out the window like he does."

"Great," Ogilvy said. "I need you to gather intel on a lead."

"I'm your guy."

"He's a looter named Mernov," instructed Ogilvy. "A bartender downtown told us he'd have better experience with the current affairs. I'm not sure if I'm walking into a trap or not so I want to know whether or not he exists, and if he does, everything about him. I want to know his codenames, his activities, his frickin' pet dog's name, everything."

"Alright then, I'll send an invoice to the research team off-world," replied Pilkins. "Give us maybe 24 hours."

"Take your time." Ogilvy patted Pilkins on the shoulder and walked out the door. Pilkins wiped his shoulder as though he had been given a dead arm. Ogilvy was on his way to the car, only to be stopped again. He turned to face the interceptor. "What now?" he said, in an impatient tone. It was Aahmiah.

"Sorry to stop you from going home and being angry at everything," said Aahmiah, "but you've got a visitor at your office."

"Who?"

"La Roux."

"Oh for crying out loud," said Ogilvy. "The hell does she want?"

"Hehehe, you," Aahmiah said with a giggle of pure schadenfreude.

"And you couldn't tell her to bugger off?"

"Nope, not at all."

"Bloody fuck."

"Have fun you two." They both returned inside the building. Ogilvy made his way to the office while Aahmiah went back to his office, trying ever so hard to hold back the laughter. Ogilvy walked into his office to find it completely empty. This could only mean one thing.

"Get out," instructed Ogilvy. "You can't hide from me in my own office."

"You good today," said La Roux. "Did you do something to your hair?"

"Get out," Ogilvy repeated. La Roux crawled out from on top of his ceiling fan and lowered herself down without making a sound. Her black skin-tight suit almost blended in with the dark corners of the walls and would have disappeared completely had her goggles not been powered on.

"What's the magic word?" La Roux said, teasingly.

"I'm not in the mood, Roux," said Ogilvy. "I picked up another case today and I don't need you doing the polar opposite of your job and getting in the way."

"My job is to make sure everything is fine," she corrected.

"In the battlefield, not in my detective line."

"Oh, especially outside the battlefield." Ogilvy was losing his patience.

"I won't ask again," he warned one last time.

"You know, you'd be slightly threatening if you didn't have such a bad Afrikaans accent. We all know people with accents from the Dark Ages are stuck in the Dark Ages."

"Get out of my office!" La Roux opened up his office window then crawled out and up the building. Ogilvy gave a heavy sigh and sat down at his office desk. Dealing with that dreaded SpecFor tracker always takes a lot out of him. He laid his head on his desk and rested a little before going downstairs and into Aahmiah's office. Inside, Aahmiah sat in the corner of his office, Dark Ages relaxation music playing from his armour speakers, his helmet still on. "What in the world are you doing Aahm?" asked Ogilvy.

"Relaxing," said Aahmiah. "I need to be ready for our upcoming investigation. I don't know how dangerous it will be so I am going to try and be in top physical and mental condition."

"Alright, you keep doing that. I'm about to finally go home."

"Don't let anyone stop you." Ogilvy nodded towards him and left the building. He hovered his hand over his car door handle just in case anyone wanted to interrupt him. He looked around a little bit and, finally satisfied that he may go home, he plunged his hand towards the handle. What he felt was not the door handle, but someone else who happened to be cloaked and standing right in front of him.

"La Roux, can you kindly go be useless somewhere else?" sighed Ogilvy. La Roux deactivated her cloaking and materialised in front of him, her hand on the door handle.

"Fine then," she sputtered. "It's not like I was going to be a gentleman and open the door for you."

"You're a woman, an annoying one too. It's meant to be the other way around."

"I'm right, you are stuck in the Dark Ages." Ogilvy opened his car door and got in. Before he finished closing his door, La Roux had opened the passenger side door and stood there. He reached over to close the passenger door only to find out that La Roux had opened the driver door. She nudged him over to the passenger seat and buckled herself in the driver seat.

"Get out of my car," Ogilvy calmly said. La Roux stared him in the eyes through her bright gold goggles and shook her head. "Please don't do this." She shook her head again. "Who the hell recruited you?"

"Same guy that recruited you," replied La Roux.

"And who would that be?" asked Ogilvy.

"Dunno," said La Roux before she pulled back the gearstick and slammed the accelerator. The car sped off, in directions known only to La Roux.

_-{Aahmiah Trinary: Monologue File #00306}_

_TIMESTAMP: 02/01/0011_

_I don't like what happened to the world. I spent countless hours reading about the Dark Ages; before Orus, before intergalactic space travel, before the Federation. Back then, the world was simple. We were all humans and we carried on, researching better technologies and just finding new ways to keep everyone happy. Or so the archives told me. No one would know exactly anymore, there's no way. But I can tell you that the consortium only brought a massive step down in terms of civilization. There is no government anymore, only planets with their own rules and laws. If you weren't a part of the Federation, you were a part of the not-so-secret Secreta. If you weren't a part of the Secreta, you were a looter. If you weren't a looter, you were nothing. You were extra human population dumped on a "civilian" planet with only the hope of perpetual tranquillity keeping you alive. No one cared about you, you were outside of everyone's concerns. In other words, you only meant something to the ones you died for. Even then, if the acid rain didn't dissolve your gravestone, it was scrapped for brouzofs. _

_{End Holonote}-_


	4. La Roux

p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""Go on then, get out," coaxed La Roux./span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""Where did you take me?" asked Ogilvy.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""My house!" she replied, excitedly.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""Why did you take me to your house?" asked a now annoyed Ogilvy.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""Because you needed a break from work and your home. Everyone at the station knows that you have a boring apartment so I felt like you should enjoy the good side of life."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""Whatever," said Ogilvy. He got out of his car and approached La Roux's front door. He turned and waited for her to open the door. She slowly walked up to the door as though she wanted Ogilvy to admire her body. Ogilvy stood there impatiently, waiting to get inside, steal a few bottles of neo-whiskey and drive home. span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"When she reached the door, she stared at Ogilvy. "You gonna be a gentleman and open the door for me or what?" she asked.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""I don't have the key, you child." She pulled out a small silver and glowing green rod from her left pocket, jabbed it into the door handle and put it back. Ogilvy turned the door handle and pulled the door across. The walls were made of burgundy wood and the furniture was lined with lightly sparkly titanium. It was impressive to see in a city like New Eden. He pulled up a stool alongside the kitchen bench and sat down, waiting for whatever surprises La Roux was going to spring on him. span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""What'll you have?" La Roux asked in a terrible impression of a looter bartender.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""Funny," Ogilvy replied. "What do you have?"span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""I've got water and whatever is left in that fridge." She pointed towards a steel fridge sitting in the corner of the kitchen. Ogilvy got up and walked over to the fridge. He was sceptical that there would be anything of interest to him, but found just what he wanted; neo-whiskey. He grabbed two bottles, putting one into his chest compartment and opening the other. "You're not seriously planning on stealing one from good ol' La Roux are you?" she asked.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""I only took one," Ogilvy lied.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""Don't be silly around a tracker. I can see everything. It's okay, I'll let you have it in honour of our new relationship," she said happily.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""We're not friends, you just kidnapped me and now I'm getting compensation for my time."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""I did you a favour," she said. "Now my address is permanently in your known locations and it'll make for some great conversation about how you got to get inside the home of the sexiest tracker in the whole Federation."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""I'm sure it will. I'm leaving now."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""No," she said with an exaggerated 'o'. "Don't leave me, we're best friends!"span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""I can assure you that I am closer friends with Aahmiah than you."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""Harsh." Ogilvy made his way back to his car and tried to open the door. The door was locked.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""You didn't," he said out loud. He turned to look back at La Roux standing in the doorway with his car keys in one hand.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""Yeah I did," she said proudly. "And now you have to stay with me until I'm happy." span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""You'll pay for this one day." Ogilvy walked back inside and sat on the sofa in front of La Roux's impressively large television. "How much does the Federation pay you? Seriously."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""More than you," she replied tauntingly. "You can tell by how I have a house and you have an apartment."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""Are you going to berate me while I'm stuck at your house or will you be kind to your guest?"span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""I'll do whatever I please," she answered teasingly. She jumped into the air and landed next to Ogilvy on the sofa. Ogilvy slid across the sofa, away from her. La Roux saw this as an invitation to lie down on her stomach, hands supporting her head on her elbows and calves moving to and fro in the air. "So what are you investigating?" she asked, the line between genuine and faked interest blurred.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"Ogilvy felt like there was no way out of it, and gave in. "There have been groups of looters shooting themselves in the head like a massive suicide pact. The same thing happened to a scouting squad in the warehouses. Commander Ilupen wants me to find out why."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""Metal," she commented. "What do you know so far?"span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""I know a bartender named Archie and a name; Mernov. That's it."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""Wow, you're slow."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""That tends to happen when you get abducted by a co-worker." They both returned to silence and continued to watch the television. They were watching a sitcom about an Orus and two humans. The Orus would cover his third eye with a material so he'd appear human and use it to get into places he wasn't allowed if they knew who he was. It wasn't a very funny show.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis"La Roux spoke up. "I should invite Aahmiah over. He seems more fun than you."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""He won't be interested," replied Ogilvy.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""I like Aahmiah's office," La Roux said. "I especially like the cat thing he has on his desk. Should I get one? I'm not sure because it's his style and I don't want to—"span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; tab-stops: 181.5pt;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""Can I go home?" asked Ogilvy.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; tab-stops: 181.5pt;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""Don't you want to see me at least take off my headgear and be amazed by my beautiful eyes?" she replied, putting on an insulted tone.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; tab-stops: 181.5pt;"span class="MsoSubtleEmphasis""Well, it does seem odd we're just watching television while wearing armour. No." Ogilvy quickly dived towards the table and grabbed his car keys. Finally free to go, he marched his way back to his car. He took one final look towards La Roux's door and saw her standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. He drove off as quickly as he could back to his apartment. Ogilvy sent a voice message to Aahmiah: "If she ever comes to my office again, tell her to fuck off." Once he was home, he retracted his headgear, kicked up his feet, grabbed a soft drink and watched television until he fell asleep; he has a lead to follow tomorrow.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"em-{Ilupen Montibul: Monologue File #05309}em/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"emTIMESTAMP: 0907/0003/em/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"emHello, Mr. Microphone, it's me again. Training periods were slow today, but they are my future squadmates and I will hold on until the end where I will see them through to victory on all the missions we take together. A soldier without a squad is a man without a family; nothing. I'm only as strong as the ones whom my life depends on and I'll be damned if I do not have the strongest squad in the galaxy. That's what it'll be like. We'll work together like the implants in my body and celebrate each victory with drinks and humble stories of success.em/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;" p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"em{End Holonote}-em/p 


End file.
